


The feeling of warmth is nice to have, so I'll try not to lose it again

by Ori_Oh



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Implied Violence, Link gets hurt bad and goes to Reader's house, Mute Link (kind of?), Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 18:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15078608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ori_Oh/pseuds/Ori_Oh
Summary: Sometimes Link comes back hurt. But this time was the worst you've seen.





	The feeling of warmth is nice to have, so I'll try not to lose it again

It’s not a new sight to see, but still, having Link stumble into your home covered in his own blood makes your blood freeze. You quickly rush over to him and help him stumble onto your bed, not caring if any blood gets on it. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mutter to yourself, only barely managing to contain your shaking and panic because this has happened before, just not as bad as this time. You don’t know whether to feel happy or sad at that, but for the moment you push those thoughts aside and rush over to a drawer and almost bang your knee trying to open it. You hastily pick up the four hearty potions in there, one of which Link put here in case of emergency and three of which you made because this happens too often. Your sweaty hands slip as you try to open the cork on one of them, and you almost drop all four because of it. Eventually, you manage to open one and pour it into Link’s mouth, his eyes holding a sliver of light left, mostly through sheer stubbornness, as Link is wont to do. As the liquid drains, the bleeding slows and the red liquid pooling on his body dries up. 

The worst is over.

The other three potions go down as well, soon after. It won’t help for now, but it will make his eventual recovery hasten. “Fuckin’ dumbass,” You mutter, “you fight that Lynel every Blood Moon, you should be more careful by now.”

“It’s okay,” Link signs with a shaking hand, barely conscious, “I got em’, so there’s nothing to worry about.” 

“I swear, how am I supposed to not worry when you keep coming in here with your guts spillin’ out for Hylia’s sake...”

A hand rests on your thigh, making your rambling trail off.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, your potions do wonders,” Link’s hand is shaking a little more now, and his eyes seem far away. 

You kneel and push his hand down, whispering, “Okay. I’ll go get a cloth or something to wipe you off, just try to get some rest, alright?”

Link nods, almost imperceptibly, and his eyelids drift closed slowly.

As you rummage through your things trying to find a fabric smooth enough not to irritate Link’s injuries anymore, you begin to think about all the other times this has happened. For someone who defeated Calamity Ganon, he feels a lot more reckless than you thought he’d be before meeting him. 

“Here we go,” you say to yourself, finally finding a nice cloth to use. You make quick work of all the bloodstains with your damp cloth, trying not to touch any of his wounds. A deep cleave to the shoulder, a puncture in his gut, you’re glad that you didn't see these before you had him drink the potions, you probably would’ve gotten a panic attack. Now, you just get a feeling of dread like lead in your gut, not ideal, but better. Link shifts in his sleep, noticing you haven't moved in a bit, and wearily cracks an eye open.

“Sleep,” he mouths, and you nod a little. You grab some extra sheets from across the room and lay on the floor after checking that Link had gone back to sleep. Inevitably, in the interim between lying down with your eyes closed and sleeping, your thoughts drift to unsavoury hypotheticals. What if you were too late? A voice in your anxiety-stricken mind tells you, like it always does, that it doesn't help to think about these things, but still. 

Your potions may work wonders, but wonders can’t heal the dead.

-

You wake to the smell of food and the warmth of a fire. As you open your eyes, you realise that you’re in bed again, and Link’s standing over the hearth, cooking something in a pot. You’ve slept through most of the night, but the fire will still hold off the chill until dawn. 

“Hey,” you mumble, still half-asleep, “It’s a little early for breakfast.”

Link shifts the hand he’s holding the spoon in to sign right-handed so you can see, “Well, I got up first and you were out like a light, so I knew there’d be time to get some grub before you did.”

Then, after lowering his hand, he raises it back up quickly and adds, “you absolute sleepyhead.”

“Oh that’s rich, coming from Mr-I-didn’t-hear-you-knocking-on-my-door-for-almost-a-candlemark-because-I’m-asleep,” you quip back, as Link smiles while portioning out some beef stew into bowls. You get out of bed and move over to the table in the middle of your house, and sit down as Link brings in the stew.

“Oh, you got some salad as well,” you say, as you put a forkful of crunchy greens into your mouth, watering at the taste of the honey-infused dressing. 

“Like it?” Link signs, always wanting to make better food, the self-proclaimed gourmet he is.

“You really don’t need to ask anymore, your food’s always delicious.”

Link smiles sheepishly at that and scratches the nape of his neck. Pretty much the rest of the meal is had in silence, save for the time you accidentally bit into a small shard of bone and yelling “Bone!” With a colourful array of expletives. Link doubling over in laughter didn’t make it any less embarrassing. Both of you were used to this by now, eating needed hands and a mouth, for the most part, so you two didn't try to communicate. Dishes could be done faster that way, Link had reasoned, and you had agreed. 

After the dishes were drying neatly on a rack, both of you had decided to have some tea by the hearth. 

“Warm saffina right?” You ask, with an affirmative response. He always liked the way it kept his temperature up, but you didn’t really like the taste. So, you decided to make a compromise. Taking an apple you had stored, you slowly started to peel the skin in one big spiral - goddess Link is so much better at this - and put it into the teapot with a stalk bursting with warm safflina. Well, you say teapot, but it's more like an actual pot that both of you scoop tea from when your mugs are empty.

Putting the teapot down on a marked out spot near the hearth (close enough to actually heat up the tea, far enough so it doesn't boil), and the apples in front of the both of you, you finally settle next to your dear friend. Silence and apple-munching eventually break into a conversation about Link’s most recent shenanigans, since the last time you’d met. 

“There was a bokoblin that farted, and his friends laughed at him, so I used the distraction to try and set the bombs in the camp off, but…” Link’s signing became more expressive as he went on, from his perfect methodical signs to big and energetic ones, filled with tiny imperfections that he didn’t let in normally. You smile as he finishes his story - and the camp - with a bang, and he seems to relax a little more after it like he’d blown off some steam that’s been piling up for awhile. 

You two settle back into silence, as Link scoops up the tea that had finally finished brewing. He sips, and releases a satisfied sigh, making you smile a little. 

“That’s good,” he whispers - without actually using his vocal chords - into the mug. Sometimes, when you two are alone, when he gets caught up in the atmosphere, the stress melts away, and he can talk like this. Barely a whisper, but there, like a comforting wind. 

“Thanks,” you say back, taking a sip of your own. The apple makes the tea more palatable to you, and soon any chill that managed to break through the defence of the fire’s warmth also melts away. This, just sitting here, drinking tea, this is good. You don’t want to lose this. Not like the many things you can’t get back. 

“Hey,” you break the silence, spurred on by that thought, “you really oughta be more careful. It’s never pretty seeing you like that.”

Link deflates a little, and his expression recedes back into that stony mask you see him wear all the time. You feel a pang of regret, but you have to do this. You can't see him end up dead for no good reason. 

Link slowly raises his hands and signs, his form perfect and calculated once again, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You’ve had this conversation before, and you know having it play out the same way again isn’t going to help. This time you’re gonna be honest with him. 

“Just,” you stop for a moment, “you don’t need to do this anymore. You’ve already trained the Royal Guard, and they can train more now. Things will be okay, even if you don’t go out risking your life all the time.” Link’s face twists for a moment in… regret? Disappointment? You can’t pin it down before he’s wearing that stone mask of an expression again. 

“I have to,” Link signs, slower and more deliberate, “if one less person dies because I do this, it’s worth it.”

“And what if you die?” you say, slightly agitated, “then, if something really dangerous comes along, you can’t be there anymore! I’m not saying you shouldn’t fight at all, Link. Just, be more careful, okay? Zelda will miss you if you die.” And I will too, you think to yourself.

Link turns away at that, his ears down. For an eternal moment, only breath and crackling filled the room. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Okay,” he breathes, and you almost miss it. 

“Thanks,” you say. He probably doesn't know it, but that word means more to you than the entire world. 

Hopefully, you can let him understand, in time.


End file.
